


We Threw The Game From The Start

by endofadream



Category: Glee
Genre: Dom!Kurt, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, sub!Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofadream/pseuds/endofadream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompted on Tumblr: "Kurt and Blaine play the game Too hot, where they have to kiss without stopping and without touching, if one of them touches the other he loses. The winner gets to do whatever he wants to the loser aka Blaine could it be DS!Klaine please?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Threw The Game From The Start

They start it because Kurt’s bored and a little keyed up and he can tell Blaine is, too—there are only so many issues of Vogue that they can go through together in an afternoon, and the way that the late afternoon sunlight is glowing on Blaine’s broad back and unfairly kissable neck isn’t doing anything to help. Not to mention that it’s been nearly four days since they’ve had the time—and the empty house—to fool around, and Kurt still is just a very weak teenage boy with an incredibly hot boyfriend.

Kurt had heard about it from Puck—which, god, should be enough to stop him before he starts—a few days ago, and the idea’s been rooted in his head ever since. He sits up, draws his lower lip between his teeth as he stares at the unwanted magazine in front of him. Shutting it, he drops it to the floor; Blaine looks up at the sudden noise, his eyes a little sleepy and startled. “I have something I want to try,” Kurt says, raising a brow.

It’s enough to garner Blaine’s full attention, and the wakefulness sparks back in his eyes, chasing away the reading-induced stupor. The look he gives Kurt is nothing short of lusty and suggestive as he pulls himself into a sitting position as well and says, “What is it?”

“I heard this from Puck, so don’t judge me,” Kurt warns. Blaine’s already laughing, cheeks stretching out in amusement, and Kurt fights the urge to roll his eyes as he shuffles forward. The bed dips and wobbles under his weight, the soft faux-fur of his rabbit throw denting and plush under his knees. “We have to kiss—”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a game to me.”

Kurt fixes Blaine with a stare that shuts him up, and he clears his throat before continuing. Already he feels the heated blood rushing to the tips of his ears, the back of his neck, the apples of his cheeks. “As I was saying, we have to kiss, _but_ we can’t touch each other. And we can’t stop. Whoever touches or stops first loses.”

“So it’s basically just making out without the touching?” Blaine sounds smug, a little prematurely triumphant, and it shows in the slight rise of his brows, the faint upturn of the corners of his lips.

“No touching,” Kurt emphasizes, trying to hide his own smile as they both shift closer to each other. “ _At all_.”

Blaine thinks he can win this, but Kurt knows that he has no idea exactly how handsy he gets when they fool around. There’s always a hand somewhere on Kurt’s body: his ass when they’re making out; his hair when Kurt’s sucking him off; his shoulders when Kurt’s fucking him.

Kurt has no doubt about who’s going to come out the winner tonight.

It’s awkward, at first, leaning in and closing the distance between them. Kurt’s fingers clench at his sides as his heart does that little fluttery tumble in his chest at the first press of Blaine’s soft, pliant lips against his. He feels like something’s off with the way his hands hang limply at his sides. His fingers twitch with the urge to drag Blaine closer, touch at the soft skin on the back of his neck, just under the thick curl of hair that the gel doesn’t quite touch.

Blaine lets out a pleased, breathy little sound into Kurt’s mouth. He tilts his head, parts his lips, and Kurt goes with the invitation, kissing back and letting his tongue dart out across Blaine’s bottom lip, then into his mouth; Blaine still tastes sweet from the grapes they shared earlier down in the kitchen, giggly and happy and nudging at each other.

Kurt lets out a surprised moan when Blaine nips his lower lip, sucks it into his mouth with an obscene noise that shouldn’t make Kurt’s cock jump like it did in his jeans. Blaine did it to catch Kurt off-guard, maybe make Kurt touch him as a result—Kurt isn’t dumb. When he wants to win Blaine certainly knows how to play dirty.

But he’s also up against the dirtiest player he knows, and Kurt remembers _every single_ button of Blaine’s and just how to press them to get the reaction he wants.

Kurt picks up the pace, kisses Blaine harder, deeper, longer, changing angles and techniques every few seconds, just to throw Blaine off-track. And it works: Blaine lets out a surprised, pleading whine, his balance stuttering as he leans forward, kisses back just as fiercely. He wobbles but stays upright, his lips sliding with a slick, sucking suction over Kurt’s. His tongue is sweet in Kurt’s mouth where it rubs over his teeth, Kurt’s tongue, and Kurt nips at it, catches the tip of it gently between his teeth before letting it go.

Even with his eyes closed Kurt knows how Blaine must look right now, strung-out and desperate, his brow adorably furrowed in concentration. He wants to stop, to tease Blaine and ask him how he’s doing, but if he does he’ll lose, and Kurt _hates_ losing.

Instead, he presses closer, goes until their bodies are almost-but-not-quite touching, and does that thing with his tongue and the suction of his lips that he knows drives Blaine straight to begging every time. And, like a reliable clock, it works: Blaine lets out a low moan, something that rumbles deep within even Kurt’s chest, and then his hands are on Kurt’s face, pressing and framing, and Blaine is pressing his body up against Kurt’s, his cock hard against Kurt’s thigh.

Without waiting Kurt surges forward, pushes Blaine to the bed and grabs his wrists in his hand. Holding them on the pillow above Blaine’s head, Kurt pants, smiles jubilantly, and licks his lips. Blaine blinks blearily up at him, his own mouth slick and red and swollen, his brows slightly crinkled as he struggles to focus.

“You lose,” Kurt says, unable to keep from grinning.

“You cheated,” Blaine defends, and though his eyes narrow there is no heat in them.

“Not my fault I know how to work you up.” Kurt doesn’t let go of Blaine’s hands as he settles more comfortably on Blaine’s lap, wriggling at the feeling of Blaine’s hard cock under his ass. It elicits a low groan and a slight shudder as Blaine’s hips jerk upwards. “Now, let’s see…how should I punish you?”

Kurt doesn’t miss the way Blaine’s eyes light up, go wide.

“Hmm…” Kurt still pretends to think, leaning down a little closer so that his lips are only a few inches from Blaine’s; on every exhale he feels the warmth of Blaine’s breath. “I think that you should suck me off, mm? Would that be an appropriate punishment for being bad?”

He lets his voice slip a bit lower, lets it take that hardened, commanding edge that he knows drives Blaine nuts. And it doesn’t fail: under him Blaine is stiffening, groaning, saying, “Yes, god, yes,” before he’s really even taken a breath. Adds, looking up at Kurt with darkening eyes, amber only a thin sliver around a dilated pupil, “ _Sir_.”

Kurt bites back his own groan, kisses Blaine hard and deep, and Blaine takes it, lets his head be pushed back into the pillow, his lips bit and sucked and ravaged while he squirms under Kurt, arms straining and chest pushing up.

They flip, and then Blaine is crawling down the bed, pushing Kurt’s shirt up with one hand, pulling open his legs with the other. He glances up, all wide, demure eyes, before unbuckling Kurt’s belt and unbuttoning his jeans. There’s hardly a pause between Blaine pulling Kurt from his jeans, holding him steady, and sinking his mouth fully down, only slightly choking as his eyes squeeze shut.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Kurt arches, one hand coming down to press at the curve of Blaine’s skull. The other tangles in the sheets, twisting and grabbing as the slurp of Blaine’s mouth sliding slowly back up the length of Kurt’s cock reaches Kurt’s ears. “God, babe, so good.”

Blaine hums, pleased, sucking in a deep breath as he pulls off, darts the pink of his tongue out to lap at the slit of Kurt’s swollen cock. He blinks up again, gives a little smirk before he closes the circle of his lips around the head, sucks and laps invisible circles around the sensitive spot underneath. Kurt hisses, trembling as he fights the urge to arch up and fuck Blaine’s mouth.

The hand Blaine has immobile on Kurt’s belly, feeling the tense and relax of his muscles, moves up, grazing over his nipples, the slight definition of his pectorals. When Blaine sinks back down again, throat tight and hot around the head of Kurt’s cock, he pinches a nipple between his fingers, makes Kurt undulate and shout, his cock sliding further down Blaine’s throat with a wet sound.

“Fuck,” Kurt says, again, breathy and disoriented. Blaine pinches his other nipple, brief, before his hand is sliding down Kurt’s body to cup his balls, roll them in his palm and tug slightly, just enough tu curb orgasm when Kurt starts panting and seeking up. “Blaine, god, y- _yeah_ , like that.”

Blaine breathes out a whine, pulling off to lap a wide stripe up the side of Kurt’s cock. He ruts against the bed as he takes Kurt’s balls in his mouth, sucks and licks and worships until Kurt is trembling with buzzing energy and molten arousal. Like this, Blaine is always so eager and sloppy, saliva glistening on his mouth and chin and cheek where Kurt’s cock slides against it when Blaine moves to mouth at Kurt’s hip. To Kurt, Blaine never looks hotter than when he’s letting himself go.

His hips roll against the bed a few more times, but Kurt knows that when they’re playing Blaine won’t come until Kurt tells him. Blaine sinks down over Kurt’s cock again, takes him deep in his throat before pulling off and bobbing his head, sucking his cheeks in and laving the velvet of his tongue on the underside of Kurt’s cock.

He pulls off again, breathless, begs, “Kurt—Sir, please. Can I come? Let me come. Please.” He isn’t afraid to meet Kurt’s eyes, stares at him with such an intense desperation that Kurt is untangling his fingers from the hard gel of Blaine’s hair and cupping his chin, stroking his thumb over a sticky streak of saliva-and-pre-come. He smiles, sees Blaine relax slightly.

“Do you think you’ve been good enough?” Kurt coos, sweet. He thumbs over Blaine’s lush, swollen lower lip, pulls it down and shivers when Blaine’s tongue darts out to flick against the pad of Kurt’s finger. “Have you sucked my cock enough?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Blaine says empathetically. He whines, rolls his hips against the bed once more, and laps at the wide ridge of Kurt’s cock. He looks completely unhinged, cheeks flushed, face wet, hair curling and mussed in the back from Kurt’s fingers. If Kurt were to be blunt, he looks like sex epitomized. “Please.”

Kurt smiles, strokes over Blaine’s cheek, and nods.

Blaine gasps out something akin to a thank-you, sinks back down over Kurt’s cock and works him with renewed fervor. His other hand disappears between his legs and he lifts up; there’s the rustle and clink of a belt and jeans before Blaine’s lifting up slightly, tugging himself out of his underwear and stroking fast and rough.

Blaine opens his mouth, sinks down until his nose is pressed against the short brown hair at the base of Kurt’s cock, and closes his lips tight before sucking on the drag back up. Kurt gasps, tipping his head back and pushing at Blaine’s head again, keeping him down as he starts bobbing.

He comes with only a faint whisper of a warning, his orgasm slamming into him so suddenly that he’s crying out and writhing up, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut as pulse after pulse of pleasure works white-hot through him.

He hears the faint, muffled gulps of Blaine swallowing, and Kurt manages to get his eyes open and his head up just as Blaine jerks his cock one last time and comes with a moan, forehead pressed to Kurt’s hip as his entire body shudders.

Kurt’s still gasping and trying to return his breathing to normal when Blaine crawls back up his body, clean hand on Kurt’s face as he leans down and presses their lips together. It’s slow, lazy, and Kurt moans at the bitter, thick taste of himself on Blaine’s tongue. He curls his fingers around the back of Blaine’s neck, sucks on Blaine’s tongue when it tries to leave his mouth.

When they part Blaine breathes out a laugh, moves over to Kurt’s ear where he whispers, “I love the way you taste.”

Kurt shudders, whines, and pulls Blaine back into another kiss, the pace of this one frantic. If this is what happens when Blaine loses, Kurt’s going to have to make sure that he always wins.


End file.
